


Tell Me About It, Stud

by romanticalgirl



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Tongue Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 18:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4635039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>caelmalloys: okay okay but mickey milkovich with a lip ring. holy shit.</p><p>romanticalgirl: Or a tongue stud?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me About It, Stud

He doesn’t tell Ian.

There’s no point in telling him when he does it, because it’s in the time between when they weren’t talking – weren’t anything – and they don’t really talk about that. And after they work at it for a while and manage to be friendly and then friends, there’s no point. He catches Ian looking sometimes, but Ian’s always been fascinated with Mickey’s mouth. Probably because Mickey denied him access for so long.

They get drunk when they shouldn’t, but Frank’s in the drunk tank and Terry’s still in prison and it’s a nice night for once, the sweltering Chicago heat fading to the hint of fall. Ian’s not supposed to drink on his meds, and Mickey’s not supposed to drink because he turns into an idiot around Ian, and thinks about things they’re not ready for. 

But Ian does and he does, and before he can even think, he’s opening Ian’s jeans and getting his cock out, breathing on it, breathing Ian in before swallowing him down. Ian makes a low noise in his throat, part relief and part need as Mickey takes him deep. Mickey’s out of practice, but Ian’s dick is made for his mouth, made to fill him up.

He pulls back, pulling off slightly then presses the tip of his tongue behind his bottom teeth and lets the ball run against the vein on the underside of Ian’s dick.

Ian’s whole body jumps and Mickey just grabs his hips, running it under the ridge of the head. Ian’s hand is buried in Mickey’s hair and his other hand is on the concrete beside him, bracing him so he can thrust into Mickey’s mouth. Mickey keeps sucking, moving his tongue so Ian’s just sliding in and out of his mouth, wet and slick. 

“Jesus fuck,” Ian’s breathing roughly, gasping and staring wide-eyed at Mickey in the fading sunlight. “Holy Christ, Mickey.”

Mickey hums around Ian and pulls back again then holds his tongue firm against Ian’s dick as he takes him in again. Ian’s back arches and he’s whimpering as Mickey keeps moving, keeps the ball hard against Ian’s cock. Ian’s head falls back as Mickey traces the ridge again, and Mickey can feel the heat pulsing beneath Ian’s skin. 

He pulls off and Ian cries out roughly, but Mickey just shoves Ian’s pants out of the way and takes Ian’s balls in his mouth. The ball moves between them, rubbing the sensitive skin, the tight hardness beneath it. Ian lies back, spreading his legs wider, muttering curses up to the darkening sky. Mickey takes both balls into his mouth and sucks hard then releases them with a wet pop. Ian moans and jerks up, and Mickey knows he’s close. Mickey takes him deep again, making sure to keep the ball to Ian’s skin, wanting him to feel it with every suck, every stroke.

Ian grabs Mickey’s hair again and he’s arched off the ground, feet and shoulders pressed against the concrete and his hips rising up for Mickey, trying to get deeper before he comes deep in Mickey’s throat.

Ian’s gasping for breath when Mickey pulls off of him and sinks back onto his heels. His own dick is hard against the fabric of his jeans, and he can feel the damp spot where he’s leaked through the denim. “You okay, Gallagher?” His voice is hoarse, shredded.

“You’ve got...got a fucking tongue piercing.” Ian’s words are rough, like it takes effort to force them out. “That’s...new.”

“Couple months old.” That ventures too close to what they’re not talking about so Mickey exhales roughly. “Could’ve been worse.”

“That implies something about that was _bad_.”

Mickey smirks and leans in over Ian. “Imagine if the first thing I’d used it for was rimming you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ian groans, grabbing Mickey’s arms and rolling them over, pinning Mickey to the ground before moving down to undo Mickey’s jeans. “That better be a fucking promise you intend to keep.”


End file.
